Виктория Холт - The Mask of the Enchantress

As soon as I entered it I called myself stupid for coming. Fear took a firm grip of me and I had a great desire to turn and run. But I wouldn't. I would skirt the ancient part and make my way among the whiter stones whose inscriptions had not yet been obliterated by time and weather.

I was being followed. I knew it. I could hear the footsteps behind me. I started to run. Whoever was behind me was hurrying too.

How foolish of me to have come here. I was playing some game of bravado with myself. I had had my warning yesterday. How scared I had been then and Aunt Amelia had not been far away. I would only have had to get to her. And yet I had come back ... alone.

I could see the gray walls of the church. Whoever was following me was faster than I. It... he ... was right at my heels.

I looked at the church door. I remembered hearing something about churches being a sanctuary because they were holy places. Evil spirits could not exist there.

I hesitated at the door of the church ... whether to go in or run?

A hand reached out and touched me.

I gave a little gasp.

"What's the matter, little girl?" said a musical and very friendly voice. "There's nothing to be afraid of, you know."

I swung round and faced him.

He was a very tall man and I noticed the black hat which he had worn yesterday. He was smiling. His eyes were dark brown and his face was not a bit as I imagined a ghost's would be. It was a living man who confronted me. He took off his hat and bowed.

"I only wanted to talk to you," he went on.

"You were in the graveyard yesterday," I accused.

"Yes," he said. "I like graveyards. I like reading the inscriptions on the tombs, do you?"

I did, but I said nothing. I was trembling with fear.

"That pump was a bit stiff, wasn't it?" he went on. "I was coming to help you with it. You needed one to hold the jar while the other pumped. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," I said.

"Show me the church, will you? I'm interested in old churches."

"I have to get home," I told him. "I'm late."

"Yes, later than the others. Why?"

"I was kept in ... to write the Creed."

"'I believe in God the Father.' Do you believe, little girl?"

"Of course I believe. Everybody believes."

"Do they? Then you know God will watch over you and protect you from all dangers and perils of the night ... even strangers in graveyards. Come along ... just for a moment. Show me the church. I believe they are rather proud of their stained glass windows here."

"The vicar is," I replied. "They have been written about. He has a lot of cuttings. You can see them if you like. He would show them to you."

He was still holding my arm and drawing me towards the church door. He glanced cursorily at the notices in the porch about the various meetings.

I felt better inside the church. That air of sanctity restored my courage. I felt nothing terrible could happen here with the golden cross, and the stained glass windows portraying the life of Jesus in lovely reds, blues and gold.

"It's a beautiful church," he said.

"Yes, but I must go. The vicar will show you round."

"In a moment. And I had better see it in daylight."

"It will soon be dark," I said, "and I ..."

"Yes, you must be home by dark. What is your name?"

"Suewellyn," I told him.

"That's a pretty and unusual name. What else?"

"Suewellyn Campion."

He nodded as though my name pleased him.

"And you live at Crabtree Cottage?"

"How did you know?"

"I saw you go in there."

"So you watched me before."

"I just happened to be near."

"I must go or my Aunt Amelia will be angry."

"You live with your Aunt Amelia, do you?"

"Yes."

"Where are your father and mother?"

"I must go. The vicar will tell you about the church."

"Yes, in a moment. Who was the lady who visited you two days ago?"

"I know who you are," I said. "You're the one who was angry about the fly."

"Yes, that's right. They told me she had only gone to Crabtree Cottage. She's a most attractive lady. What is her name?"

"Miss Anabel."

"Oh, I see, and does she call to see you often?"

"Yes, she does."

Suddenly he took hold of my chin and looked into my face. I believed then that he was the Devil and that he was looking for the mole on my chin.

I said: "I know what you're looking for. Let me go. I must go home now. If you want to see the church ask the vicar."

"Suewellyn," he said. "What's wrong? What am I looking for? Tell me?"

"It's nothing to do with the Devil. It's something you're born with. It's like having a strawberry on your face when your mother fancied strawberries."

"What?" he asked.

"It's nothing, I tell you. Lots of people have them. It's only a mole."

"It's very nice," he said. "Very nice indeed. Now, Suewellyn, you've been very kind to me and I am going to see you home."

I almost ran out of the church. He was beside me. We walked swiftly through the graveyard to the edge of the green.

"Now, there's Crabtree Cottage," he said. "You run along. I'll watch from here until you are safely in. Good night, Suewellyn, and thanks for being so kind to me."

I ran.

As I was going to my room, Aunt Amelia came out of hers.

"You're late," she said.

"I was kept in."

She nodded with a smile of satisfaction.

"I had to write out the Creed," I told her.

"That'll teach you to lie abed," she commented.

I went to my room. I could not tell her about the stranger. It was all so odd. Why had he followed me? Why had he wanted me to show him the church? For when he was in it he seemed hardly interested in it. It was rather mystifying. At least I had not given way to my fear. I had braved the graveyard and discovered that the ghost was only a man after all.

I wondered if I should ever see him again.

I did not.

When I looked in on Matty the next day she told me that the gentleman had left the King William. Tom had carried his bag down for him to the fly; and he had gone off on the train traveling first class.

"He was a real proper gentleman," said Matty, "traveling first class and having all the best at the King William. John Jeffers don't have many like him there, and he gave Tom a shilling for carrying his bags up and another for bringing them down. A regular gentleman."

I pondered whether to tell Matty about my encounter in the graveyard with that regular real proper gentleman.

I hesitated. I wasn't quite sure about it myself. Perhaps I'll tell her one day, but not yet ... no, not yet.

At the end of the week I had ceased to feel that vague apprehension which had come to me since I first saw the man in the graveyard. After all he had seemed kind in the church. He had one of the handsomest faces I had ever seen. He reminded me a little of Joel. His voice had been similar and he had smiled in the same way. He had been a visitor to the church and had thought that I, who lived in the village, could tell him something about it. That was all.

I knew he had not gone to the vicar the next day because it was the next morning he left.

It had been a cold day. Miss Brent had lighted a fire in the schoolroom—even so, our fingers were cramped with cold and that was not good for our handwriting. We were all glad when three o'clock came and we could run home. I looked in on Matty, who was seated before a roaring fire. The kettle, which was covered with black soot, was on the hob and it would not be long before she was making her tea.

She welcomed me as she always did with her wheezy laugh which shook her plump body.

"This is a day and a half," she said. "Wind coming straight in from the east. Even a dog wouldn't go out on a day like this ... unless he had to."

I nestled at her feet and wished I could stay there all the evening. It would not be nearly so cozy in Crabtree Cottage. I knew there was a layer of dust on the mantelshelf and crumbs under Matty's chair; but there was a coziness in these things which I missed at home. I thought of my icily cold bedroom, going up there to undress and walking carefully over the dangerously polished linoleum, and leaping into bed to shiver. Beside Matty's fireplace was a stone hot water bottle which she took to bed with her.